Jingle Belle
by flyinghawk
Summary: [The Santa Clause 1 and 2] The story of a young elf who does everything she can to keep the spirit of Christmas within her own heart… while trying to win another. Bernard/Belle.
1. Part the First

The story of a young elf who does everything she can to keep the spirit of Christmas within her own heart… while trying to win another.

Yes, it's true I don't own The Santa Clause. Sad, of course.

Part 1

The dawn of a chilly late November morning came, and snow was falling from the gray sky. Within the frost-covered mansion that served as headquarters for the inner workings of the North Pole, at the top of tower that hosted the team of elves who designed durable toys for the children around the world, the youngest elf stretched sleepily.

Named Belle, she was at least eighteen in human years, nineteen at the oldest, therefore making her one of the youngest elves to ever be referred to the Sketching Squad (the exception being her great-grandfather Elias, who was sixteen). She crawled out of her sleigh bed and shook out her hair, which fell in a honey blonde sheet to her waist. She plaited it quickly, her fingers flying nimbly until it coiled like a great snake. Her hair taken care of, she stepped over a large notebook stuffed with loose papers to the wardrobe, plucking a plain shirt from the top drawer.

As one of the Sketching Squad, Belle was allowed to dress as she pleased during the workweek, a privilege that many junior elves did not have. She dressed quickly, in a plain white shirt with a Peter Pan collar and a pair of tan tab-front trousers. She slipped a hunter green sweater over her head, and pulled on a scuffed up pair of brown shoes, snapping her fingers to make the laces tie themselves. With one last look in the mirror above her wardrobe, Belle exited her room.

Deciding that taking the banister would take less time, Belle quickly checked the stairs for junior elves, and clambered on the banister. She pushed off, and flew down the stairs. She would have made it to work on time had it not been for her rather abrupt landing. Her landing that happened to be on top of the Head Elf of the workshop, Bernard.

Struggling to get up, Bernard slapped his hat back onto his head and whirled around, looking for the guilty party. In a heap at the bottom of the stairs, Belle was too shocked to do anything other than stare at the elf in front of her.

"Were you just sliding on the banister?" he demanded, standing over her with his hands on his hips.

Belle nodded slowly.

Bernard shook his head in disbelief. "I'd think that a junior elf almost ready to be accepted to a higher position would show a little more care." He waved his hand at her. "Instead, you act like a toddler elf who has dreams of the Position Ceremony rather than a junior whose Ceremony happens after Christmas!" The ceremony he spoke of happened when an elf reached maturity, around eighteen. It was also when the particular elf was assigned their lifetime job. What the elder elf did not realise was that Belle had already attended a Ceremony, for she had matured quicker than her peers. However, she was not about to correct her berating elder.

"I'm… sorry, sir," she stammered, struggling to stand up. She brushed her trousers off self-consciously. This drew his attention to her clothing, and he spluttered.

"Are you wearing regular clothes to work?" Bernard asked. His eyes, which were a dark chocolaty brown, bore into her green ones.

She nodded again.

"I can't believe this!" He threw his arms up in the air in frustration. "A junior elf, sliding the banister and knocking the Head Elf over, wearing regular clothes!" He turned to her again, and jabbed his finger at her, eyes blazing. "Ten demerits! You have no fudge privileges for a week, and you will report directly to the Kitchen. Forget wrapping for today, you're washing the caramel pans!" He drew out a pad of paper, and scribbled instructions on it before making it vanish into thin air. He looked at her. "Why aren't you there yet? Move!"

Afraid of the consequences of talking back to her superior, Belle quickly obeyed and scurried off to the Kitchen. When she got there, the head chef, Pierre, a rather large elf with thinning dark hair and a slimy disposition, was waiting. He pointed imperiously towards a stack of caramel pans that seemed to have multiplied by the thousand, and one of the younger elves walking by threw her an apron.

Belle groaned, and grabbed a scrub brush from the wall as she passed. For the next twelve hours, she scrubbed dried caramel from the pans, using tiny bits of magic here and there when Pierre wasn't watching to dry them. As she was finishing the second to last pan in the last stack, the pristine white doors to the Kitchen opened, and Santa Claus himself waltzed in, whistling merrily.

Santa, who was dressed in a fuzzy red sweater and tan corduroys held up by suspenders, looked around at the counter, and slapped the bell. When no one rushed towards the counter, Belle stood and went to help him.

"Good evening, sir," Belle said politely, trying surreptitiously to wipe her caramel-covered hands on her apron. "Can I get you anything?"

Santa studied her, then cocked his head to the side. "You look familiar. Have you always worked in Kitchen?"

Belle shook her head. "No, sir," she said truthfully, "I'm part of the Sketching Squad." She scooped six warm chocolate chip cookies onto a plate. "The supervisor assigned me ten demerits for sliding down the banister and wearing regular clothes to work." She clapped her hand over her mouth. "I'm sorry, sir! I didn't mean to speak ill-"

"It's fine," he assured her. "You're Elias' great-granddaughter, yes? Belle, wasn't it?" At her nod, he chuckled. "You shouldn't be here, stirring cocoa, you should be in the Drawing Room."

Belle shook her head again, this time eyes wide. "It's perfectly all right, sir, I must finish working off the demerits. After all, we senior elves are setting an example for the junior and toddler elves."

Santa nodded thoughtfully, stroking his chin. "Quite right… oh, okay, if you could give me a cup of cocoa and a milk in a frosted glass." He called over his shoulder to another elf who was closing the door to Kitchen. "Bernard, what do you want?"

"I'm fine," Bernard assured the other man. He looked up, and locked eyes with Belle, who was busy pouring milk into a tall glass with sugar around the rim. "Weren't you supposed to be cleaning caramel pans?" he demanded.

Belle gave a polite smile. "I've finished all but one, sir."

Bernard gave a start. _She'd finished all but one…_ "You mean to say that there's only one pan in the whole Kitchen that you haven't cleaned?"

Belle nodded, and Bernard gave a small, disbelieving chuckle. Belle lowered her eyes respectfully, and handed Santa his cocoa, and set the plate of cookies on the counter. She handed the glass of milk to Bernard. "If you'll excuse me," she said quietly.

She had barely made it to the end of the corridor when she heard Santa speak to Bernard. "Did you punish her this morning?"

"Yes," Bernard sounded as if the answer were clear.

Santa groaned. "She's the youngest mature elf on the Sketching Squad." Belle couldn't help but feel a surge of pride after hearing that, especially from Santa! She listened more closely, and it seemed awfully like Bernard was surprised. Very surprised. Then, "You mean she didn't say anything?"

Belle imagined Santa chastising Bernard, and suddenly felt sick to her stomach.

"I can't believe this," Bernard was saying. Belle imagined him wringing his beret in his hands nervously, then stopped herself. Why on Earth would Bernard feel bad about punishing her, of all elves? She shook her head, and picked up a mop that had been thrown in a corner. After a few minutes, she heard the door close, and she returned to the front counter. No one was there. It seemed as though Santa and Bernard had left, leaving the empty plate behind.

Around seven o'clock, Belle left the Kitchen, as the night shift had arrived. She accepted a conjured cloak from Henry, the baker, and made her way to the Sketching Squad tower. It had begun to snow again, which was a good sign for the holiday season. What she didn't expect, however, was to find a small cat on the steps to the tower.

It looked like it had been living in the streets of Elfsburg, which wasn't necessarily a good thing, given the number of resentful reindeer around. Upon spotting Belle, it meowed loudly, and immediately began to rub its head at her ankles. She studied it for a moment, then gave in to its persistent cries and scooped it up in her arms.

Once inside, Belle climbed the seven flights of stairs to her small apartment with the cat in tow. After she had put it down, the cat felt it necessary to wander around and sniff at her belongings, and eventually settled down for a nap on her hand-woven poncho. Smiling to herself, she put on a pot of tea and scooped up the cat.

"We need to give you a name," she whispered, dangling her finger in front of the cat's nose. "How about… Damien… no, too fancy. Harold? Jamison? Oooh, I know… what about Amadeus?"

The cat purred.

Belle giggled. "Then that's it, then," she said, stroking the cat's dark grey fur. "Amadeus it is."

A/N: Gasp. For rarely there are other elves that might make it into the plotline. And don't you love Amadeus? Over and out. Flyinghawk.


	2. Part the Second

Part 2

About a week after Belle had spent the day in the Kitchen, as she twirled at her desk while working on a groundbreaking sketch of a new game that taught children how to multiply, she received a call on the horn, a bugle-shaped piece made of wood used in place of a telephone. As she had never received a horn call before, she picked it up with trembling fingers. "Hello, Belle speaking," she said timidly.

The person on the other end laughed, a familiar sound. "Good morning, Belle. This is Bernard, the Head Elf. I was wondering if you could meet me at the Kitchen in about… twenty-five minutes?"

Belle panicked. Was it about the conversation that she'd overheard? Was it about her critiquing the way he assigned demerits? "Sure," she managed to croak before hanging up.

Bernard was already sipping hot cocoa at one of the small wrought-iron tables when Belle slipped in, her eyes downcast and forlorn. Her hair had been left down, and today she had opted for a flared tan skirt and a navy blue sweater with a matching scarf, a black beret similar to the one Bernard wore perched on her head. He studied her as she looked around, his eyes wandering down to her feet. She'd kept the elves' signature shoes, black wool with pointed tips. Finally, he waved her over.

She smiled, and made her way through the dining room area, where many elves on their cocoa breaks sat with their friends, chatting about the upcoming festival in Elfsburg to reward the elves' hard work. Bernard nodded at her, and gestured to a chair.

She sat down, and smoothed her skirt nervously. "Good morning, sir."

"Good morning," Bernard said, stirring his cocoa. "Belle, is it?" Belle nodded. "I asked you here to discuss what happened last week." He glanced up at her; she had turned stark white. "You're not in trouble again, Belle. All I wanted to know was why you didn't correct me when I shouted at you about wearing regular clothes to work."

Belle studied him as he sipped his cocoa, waiting for her reply. "Er," she said slowly, "I didn't think it was really my place to correct you, sir."

Bernard raised his eyebrows. "Enough of the 'sir,' Belle, it's Bernard." Belle nodded. "And, since when is it not your place to assert your status as a member of the Sketching Squad?" Belle shrugged. Bernard sighed. "Anyway, I'd like to apologize for my rudeness. I'm slightly stressed out with Christmas in a week and a half, but that's no reason to downgrade anyone."

Belle nodded. "Yes, sir..er, Bernard. It's fine." She stood, as if to leave. "Thank you."

"Let me walk you," Bernard offered, tossing a couple of coins on the table and slipping his bag over his head. "I'm going the same way." Belle nodded, and began walking towards the door, holding it open for him before stepping out into the crisp snow.

They walked in silence, Bernard spending most of the time wondering what to say to her. He glanced over at her once, and she had been humming the tune of a Christmas song that Bernard knew had been playing in the Kitchen before they left. They turned right towards the workshop entrance, and Belle ducked instinctively, throwing an arm out and catching Bernard in the chest. This made him fall over, and as he was attempting to figure out what happened, saw the goofy face of Chet, the reindeer. He saw the reindeer's face being shoved out of the way, and Belle's face appeared, looking frightened and concerned.

"Are you all right, Bernard?" she was saying frantically, picking up his wrists and feeling for a pulse. "Oh, God, I killed the Head Elf!" Behind her, Chet was scampering off after a pair of elves with tinsel boas.

Despite the pain that was spreading to his arm, Bernard managed a small smile. "I'm okay, I'm okay." When he saw Belle's green eyes had filled with tears. "Hey, why the tears? I said I was fine." He struggled to sit up, accepting Belle's hand to steady himself. "See?"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she cried, throwing her arms around him. Bernard was shocked. He knew that junior elves all around them were staring, and some laughing, but he felt something in the pit of his stomach that made it feel…all right.

That feeling didn't last very long, as Curtis, the young elf with an affection for the Handbook, was standing in front of them with an extremely stunned expression on his face.

"Bernard?" he ventured. "What are you doing!"

Belle, hearing Curtis' voice, stiffened, and let go of Bernard's neck. She tugged on her sweater, muttered an apology and hurried away, wiping the snow from her clothes as she went.

"What, Curtis?" Bernard sighed, looking down at the younger elf. What he hadn't expected was Curtis' knowing smirk.

"Interesting," the younger elf leered, tucking his cherished Handbook under his arm. "I always thought you had a thing for Judy or Anna." He glanced over his shoulder. "Though, I must say, she is pretty."

Bernard gaped at him. "Curtis! It was an accident! I do NOT have a 'thing,' as you so eloquently put it, for Belle!" He straightened his bag and walked ahead of Curtis pointedly.

"Belle, is it?" Curtis said, running to keep up with him. "You barely remember to call the elf at the café by his name, let alone an elf that you just so happened to 'accidentally' bump into."

Bernard rolled his eyes, and pushed the door to the workshop open. "For your information, Curtis, Belle saved me from decapitation. Chet was flying around the courtyard again. Any idea how that happened?"

Curtis gave him what he believed to be a winning smile. "Uh, he got into the candy again. And you know what that means." He waved his hand in front of his small nose pointedly.

"So you let him outside?" Bernard finished. He ran his hand through his dark hair. "Without supervision, might I add? He's just a baby, Curtis!"

Just then, a loud crash sounded from outside. Bernard spun around, and groaned when he saw Chet's toothy smile in the window. Behind the young reindeer, the elves he'd been chasing were rubbing their heads and attempting to disentangle themselves from the tinsel. They saw Bernard's grumpy face in the window, and gave him the thumbs-up sign.

Sighing, he turned back to Curtis. The younger elf was watching him with a blatant look of…fear? It wasn't that Bernard was intimidating, but his status on the chain of command was staggering. Fourth in command after Charlie, Santa's son? "Look, Curtis," he began.

"No need to thank me," Curtis smiled, puffing his chest out. "If Chet hadn't been loose, you would've kissed her or something." He laughed, seeing Bernard's pale face. Interrupting the spluttering noises coming from the older elf's mouth, he said, "I'm off to do checks. See ya!" He scampered off with a very old-looking clipboard, leaving Bernard with the heart attack he was extremely close to having.

"Now who could he have been referring to?" a voice said, directly behind Bernard.

He squeezed his eyes shut, and shook his head defiantly. "That is not Santa, that is not Santa behind me." He looked up, and, sure enough, saw the sparkling blue eyes of Santa himself, who was currently wearing a mischievous grin.

"Could it be," Santa said, moving around Bernard's chair to crouch in front of him, "that our young, misdirected young Curtis was referring to the lovely young elf in Sketching?" he tapped his forehead sarcastically. "What-what was her name? Belle?"

Bernard groaned. "Santa, please," he said, standing and picking his shoulder bag off the counter, "You aren't going to come to the same conclusions as Curtis, are you?" For a moment, Bernard really thought that his friend and boss was going to give in. Just for a moment. Santa smiled, and waved, as if he had a secret. Bernard obligingly leaned in. "What?"

"I was just in the stable," he said seriously, stroking his beard. "Talked to Chet. Want to know what he said?"

"I have a feeling you're going to tell me anyway," Bernard grumbled, beginning to pace.

"He said," Santa continued, pretending that he hadn't heard, "That he was sleeping in his stall when someone used magic to make him eat a pound of German chocolate. Then someone used magic to lift him in the air, and threw him outside." Santa surveyed Bernard carefully. "Your magical signature was on the trace."

Bernard stopped his pacing. "WHAT?"

Around him, the elves stopped, and the workshop went silent. Every tiny ear was listening in to their conversation. Mentally cursing, Bernard faced the crowd of attentive elves, and waved at them. "Nothing's wrong," he called gaily. "Please, go back to work."

He faced the elder elf again, and saw a slightly contemplative look on his face. It was as if he were trying to figure out whether or not he was lying about the magical signature, or if someone had managed to superimpose it. Bernard stared back at him, slightly impatient.

"I don't know what happened," Santa began, straightening his back and snapping his suspenders, "But I'll leave you alone now. But don't think I'm going to forget this conversation anytime soon. We have Judy's wedding reception to talk."

Bernard groaned. The last thing he wanted was to be alone with Santa for several hours, while the rest of the town was occupied with an event so monumental as Judy's wedding. He still thought that she and Andrew, the elf from Wrapping, should have waited until after Christmas to get married, but no, nobody listened to him. Santa had even encouraged the ceremony to be held the week before Christmas Eve.

"Yes, Santa," he muttered. "I'm going home."

"You do that," Santa said brightly. "Your outfit will be sent up with an assistant later."

"Oh, goody."

The first thing that came to Belle's mind when she saw her outfit for Judy's wedding was, _And I have to wear this in public? _She held it against her body in front of the mirror, hoping that it was a bad dream, that she would wake up and be able to coordinate her own outfit for the event rather than rely on the workshop's Wishing Well. The Wishing Well was a giant water well that the elves could use for personal use as long as it didn't break the three rules- no gaining power, no bringing people back from the dead, and no using the power to make people fall in or out of love. Apparently, judging by the tag, Judy had cooked up a little something for her big day.

The gown itself wasn't the problem. It was the way it was made. The bodice was made of ivory and inlaid with gold, with bits of emerald set into the corset. The skirt part was fashioned out of the finest emerald silk, and fell just above the floor. It wasn't that the gown wasn't pretty. Oh, no. It was the most gorgeous dress that she'd ever seen, but Belle was more worried about how Bernard would find the dress.

"Are you excited or what?"

Next to her, Judy was twirling around in a cloud of white and ivory. Her brown eyes glittered with excitement as she held the beginnings of her bouquet against the silk of her dress. In accordance with elven tradition, the bride's flowers and the groom's cufflinks have to be placed under the Happily Ever After spell. When they toss them after the ceremony, the magic woven around the items will seek out the two that meet the required qualifications to be "destined".

"I can't wait for Andrew to see me in this," Judy said excitedly. She gestured to her flowers, which were being carried away by a representative from the Rapunzel Room, the room in the Happily Ever After tower that specialised in enchantments for occasions such as these. "Do you think they'll seek you?"

Belle stared at her blankly. "The flowers?"

"Yes, of course the flowers!" She looked at Belle. "You don't think they will consider you? You're of age, and you're pretty, obviously intelligent, if you got into the Sketching Squad as early as you did…" She dropped her train and gasped. "You're the one Curtis was talking about! You're the one he saw with Bernard!"

Belle sighed, placing the dress back in it's proper box, nodding to the seamstress that whisked it away for delivery to her home. "I can't believe you, Judy, of all people, would be so frivolous as to suggest that Bernard and I… that we…er,…"

Judy giggled. "That you have a crush on him, or he you! Curtis was saying that Santa himself noticed how cozy you looked."

"This is crazy," Belle muttered, giving her friend and elder a light shove. "I'm going home. See you tomorrow."

She was barely through the door when Judy called, "Don't forget to meet here at nine o'clock, for the wedding party photographs!"

A/N: Sorry this took so long. Summer called, and college loomed. Time was spent with people, among other beings. Hope you enjoyed. Over and out! Flyinghawk


	3. Part the Third

Part 3

"What a beautiful ceremony, don't you agree, Bernard?"

Bernard groaned when he heard Santa's unmistakable voice behind him. He was uncomfortable in a traditional white silk shirt with ruffles around the collar, a short corduroy jacket, and green corduroy lederhosen, and all he wanted was to go home. Sure, he was happy for Judy and Andrew, but Christmas was less than a week away. Surely there were more pressing matters at hand?

Santa slid into the seat across from Bernard. The tables around them, all draped with carefully embroidered tablecloths adorned with miniature Christmas trees for centerpieces, were empty- the other elves were dancing. He surveyed the head elf for a few moments, wondering exactly why the other elf was under so much stress, even sitting amidst a wedding celebration.

Bernard shook his head. "Of course, Santa, it was a very good ceremony. As was the last one we both attended, in the spring of 2000." He purposefully put an extra emphasis on the word 'spring', at which Santa gave a short bark of laughter.

"Is that why you aren't celebrating?" Santa asked, sipping a glass of sparkling champagne that one of the elves working as waiter presented him as soon as he had seated himself. "Bernard, you've managed to run the workshop without any mistakes for over a thousand years. I think you, of all people, could afford to relax for a bit."

Bernard glared at him, and then glanced over at the crowd of dancing elves. He decided rather quickly that he preferred being alone with Santa than lost in that crowd.

"I suppose I could," Bernard grumbled. He accepted a flute of champagne from a passing waiter's tray, and held it up. "To Judy and Andrew, and to Christmas Eve."

Santa held his glass, and took a sip. Mrs. Clause, dressed in a simple blue gown and silver earrings, joined them, a bit flushed from dancing.

"I can't believe you two are sitting her arguing when you could be out there!" She gestured to the dance floor, ablaze with colour. "You could use a lady in your life," she added to the head elf. He spluttered. "No, honestly," she barreled on. "You work too hard, and you're always stressed. You need a little bit of a social life, and what more than a lady friend?"

Santa shrugged. "We were just talking, that's all." He surveyed his wife. "Why this sudden interest in Bernard's love life?" He turned to Bernard, who was ashen. "It must be the wedding fever. Women get that way, don't they? Carol, why don't you go and have fun, and we'll be along in a minute or two?"

Mrs. Clause opened her mouth, and then paused with a grin. "Fine."

Bernard let out a sigh, one that he was unaware he'd been holding in.

"But only if Bernard comes with me," she added hastily, grabbing Bernard's arm and leading him from his chair. Spluttering but unable to make himself wrench his arm away, Bernard began dancing obligingly. Mrs. Clause grinned over his shoulder at her husband, who was watching happily. As he spun Mrs. Clause outward, he glanced around him and was surprised to see Belle dancing not far away with the groom. He found himself watching as she dipped her head back, her blonde hair catching the gleams from the twinkling fairy lights that were strung about the ballroom.

The dance ended, and he bowed slightly to Mrs. Clause, who curtsied in return. The partners switched, and Bernard found himself dancing with Judy, the bride. She giggled when he jokingly kissed her gloved hand, and twirled her about the floor.

As elves from around the city spun around them, Judy stood on tiptoe and whispered into Bernard's ear. "So," she said quietly, so no one else could hear, "Are you enjoying yourself?"

Bernard thought for a moment, and nodded. Because you just didn't tell the bride that you thought she had planned her wedding at the wrong time of the year- it wasn't proper. "Of course, Judy," he said.

"You're lying," she said with a small smile. "But that's okay." She spun, and he caught her hand again. "Do you like Belle's dress?"

"Belle?" Bernard repeated. He glanced over his shoulder to look at the elf. She was dancing with Curtis, whose eyes had just about fallen out of his head at his luck. Though she herself was rather average for her age, Belle was still on the shorter side, making her a bit taller than the keeper of the handbook. His eyes fell at just about the top of her dress, a fact Bernard presumed she hadn't been made aware of yet.

Judy cleared her throat.

Bernard snapped around to face her, and shrugged. "It's nice," he said noncommittally.

Judy smiled knowingly. "Just nice?" she asked teasingly.

Bernard turned back to her, and smirked. "Fine," he snapped. "She looks very pretty. Was that better?"

Judy laughed. "That's more along the lines I was looking for," she admitted. Andrew, having torn himself away from an elderly nurse who was holding one of his gloves and giggling, whirled by and scooped his bride away from the head elf. Bernard took the opportunity to inch towards the table he'd been sitting at, but was stopped by Santa's niece, Lucy, who was ten.

"Dance with me?" she asked sweetly. He grinned in spite of himself at her blue velvet dress and shiny black Mary Janes.

"Of course, Miss Lucy," he said. The elves playing in the band on the stage behind him struck up a tune he could have sworn he'd heard about a million times in the workshop- 'Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer.' "Here," he said, taking her hands in his. "I'll show you how to waltz."

"Okay Bernard," Lucy said happily. She twirled around slowly under Bernard's care, and shrieked with glee when he spun her.

When the song ended, she bounded off to find Charlie, shouting 'thank you' over her shoulder. He sighed with relief, and attempted again to edge off the dance floor. This time he was stopped by a tap on his shoulder.

"Are you… sneaking away?" a quiet voice asked with a hint of amusement.

Bernard turned slowly, to find a smirking Belle in front of him. The emeralds sewn into her dress reflected the soft fairy lights strung around the ballroom, and sparkled beautifully. They made it seem like she herself was a glittering jewel amidst dull rocks. "I was…" he gestured uncomfortably towards the table that Santa, Mrs. Clause, Lucy, and Charlie were sitting at. The table he'd been trying to get to. "About to take a break, actually," he said lamely.

"Oh, I see," she said with a smirk. "And the fact that you didn't even want to come doesn't have anything to do with it, hmmm?" Someone shoved her into him, and he automatically reached for her hands. They began to dance with the rest of the crowd, and neither noticed when Judy and Andrew danced by and snapped a photograph.

"As a matter of fact…" Bernard began, sounding a bit harsher than he had intended. The sting in his voice did not go unnoticed- Belle looked up at him, the smile fading from her eyes.

"I understand," Belle said. She didn't really understand how his behaviour had gone odd since the last time they had spoken, the day Chet almost ran into them. She took her hands away and curtsied. "Thank you for the dance, sir." She slipped past a pair of older elves making googly eyes at each other before Bernard could get another word out.

He sighed, and made his way towards the Clauses. He sat roughly in the only empty space, and signaled the waiter, who hurried over and supplied him with a flute of champagne. Bernard surveyed the dance floor again, and upon catching a glimpse of green, downed the entire glass. It was only after did he realise that the only green he'd seen across the floor was the boughs of the Christmas tree on the stage with the band.

Mrs. Clause cleared her throat. "Bernard, if I may-"

He held his hand up. "Mrs. Clause, with all due respect, I would rather you not try to pull any love therapist act on me. I'm perfectly content."

She opened her mouth to say something anyway, but was drowned out by an elf announcing the ceremonial tossing of the bride's flowers and the groom's cufflinks, and the request for every single elf or human in the room to make their way to the center of the ballroom. Both Clauses stared at Bernard.

When he finally noticed their expressions, he shook his head. "No. I'm not doing it."

"But you have to!" Mrs. Clause exclaimed. "Every single elf or human has to participate; those are the rules." She crossed her arms in front of her. "Do I need to escort you?"

Bernard stared at her, and she raised her eyebrows. Throwing his napkin on the table, he stood and stomped towards the center of the room, where the crowd of elves was gathered. An elf bearing a green velvet cushion was standing in between Judy and Andrew, who had placed their respective items on the crushed emerald material.

The elf holding the cushions snapped his fingers, and a megaphone appeared in his hand. He lifted it to his mouth, and said, "Ladies and gentlemen! As you all know, the items placed upon the cushion have been placed under the Happily Ever After spell, and once the groom is instructed to kiss the bride, they will vanish. The items have been known to take up to three years to seek the destined. If you are lucky enough to have the items turn up in your house, you may be lucky enough to find their counterpart."

Some of the older elves smiled appreciatively. For the younger elves, and for Lucy, Charlie's half-sister, the elf holding the cushion elaborated. "You see," he said, holding up the crushed velvet pillow, "If these find their way back to each other, and the two people truly _believe_, their love will last forever."

The gathering of women clapped.

He held the pillow high, and then whispered, "Then without further ado, good luck!" He slid the cufflinks into the spaces on the ribbon holding the flowers together. "You… er, can kiss the bride," he added.

Andrew turned to Judy, and grinned. He slid his hands into her hair, and tilted her face towards his. A single tear dropped from her eye, and she sniffed. He paused, but she shook her head and leaned forward, capturing his lips in a sweet kiss.

The majority of the women cooed, and the men continued clapping. The flowers shimmered, and disappeared.

Later that night, after the city had fallen asleep and the snow had started falling, an old magic took hold of the energy that surrounded the North Pole. The flowers, having disengaged from the cufflinks, sought out the next groom. Shortly before dawn, they found him- he had fallen asleep half-dressed on an old sleigh bed in the dormitory wing connected to the workshop. His hat was cock-eyed on his head, and his hair covered his closed eyes, normally as brown as warm gingerbread. They situated themselves on the horn table in the front hall of his suite of rooms, waiting for the morning.

A/N: Hey guys! I hope you enjoyed this next installment of _Jingle Belle_! I totally got re-inspired by this holiday cd that the Disney Channel put out, believe it or not, so I probably won't be going anywhere for a while. I have a basic, bulletproof outline in mind (watch out!!!!), but as always, SUGGESTIONS ARE WELCOME. I also updated my profile, so, if you wanna check that out, it's absolutely corking with me. In fact, I also love reviews! Over and out! Flyinghawk.


	4. Part the Fourth

Part Four

Warm sunlight emanating from outside in the sub-zero temperatures of the North Pole trickled through the antique glass windows and heated Bernard's face, the dust rising tickling his nose. When he finally came to and squinted out the window he sprang off of the bed, hat in hand. Barely stopping to yank the clipboard off its hook in the front hall, he rushed down the stairs to the workshop. Skidding on the polished tiles, much to the delight of some of the younger elves milling around the center command station on their cocoa breaks, he rushed into an office Santa kept off to the side of the command station, panting and clutching his hat and clipboard.

In front of him, the ancient winter figure had propped his boot-clad feet on the top of the antique desk and was engrossed in the morning edition Elfsburg Times. Upon hearing Bernard's laboured breathing, he lowered the paper and peered at his assistant over his glasses.

"Good morning," he said with a smile, sitting up straight and folding the paper in front of him. "You overslept, I take it?"

"Santa, I'm really incredibly sorry!" Bernard began, his voice slightly higher-pitched than normal. "I don't know what-"

"Bernard." Santa held up a chapped hand. "I took the liberty of having Anna reset your alarm. Not to worry. Mrs. Clause, Anna, and I all agreed that you deserved the sleep."

Bernard spluttered, and started to pace back and forth in front of Santa. "Are… you're not kidding? Santa, I've tried to explain to you the gravity of our situation. Christmas is in exactly two weeks, and we're way behind schedule. Judy and Andrew's wedding took away exactly fifteen hours of valuable production time. My sleeping in is completely unacceptable on this tight schedule!"

Santa gave Bernard a look. "Bernard, if I didn't think that we could pull this off, we wouldn't have reset your alarm. Besides, Judy and Andrew wouldn't have planned their wedding for yesterday if they didn't have my okay first."

Bernard sighed. "I guess I'm just worried. It's a very stressful time of year for us, and the wedding just… made it worse, I guess."

Santa smiled. "And arguing with Belle yesterday didn't help much, did it?" The head elf squirmed uncomfortably. "That's what I thought." He stood up, and folded the paper on the desk. "Bernard, when was the last time you relaxed? I mean, really relaxed?"

"I don't think we really have time for this, Santa," Bernard said coolly. He gestured downstairs to the workshop, which was bustling with elves and package production. "The elves are working harder than they usually do this time of year, and it's my job to make sure that everything goes smoothly."

Santa held up a hand. "But how can you do that if you haven't taken care of yourself?" When Bernard didn't answer right away, he nodded. "I think you should see a professional," he said grimly.

*

"A shrink?" Curtis exclaimed later on their lunch break, breaking off a piece of a gingerbread man. "Santa actually told you to go see Dr. Kane?"

"Yeah," Bernard said, unraveling a piece of gold braid from his shoe.

"When's your appointment?" Curtis asked, through a mouthful of cookie.

"This afternoon," Bernard sighed. "This is ridiculous! I have half a mind not to go, but Santa would not like that at all. Might as well just get it over with and be done with it."

Although he was trying to be the supportive friend, despite Bernard's constant dismissal of his attempts, Curtis was also worried about the head elf. He secretly agreed with Santa's suggestions that he worked too hard and didn't relax as much as he should. Sitting before him now in "their spot," the bench on the merry-go-round in the centre of Elfsburg outside the workshop with his travel mug still brimming with cocoa and a mincemeat pie that had gone almost untouched, there were dark circles around Bernard's eyes, and it looked like he hadn't slept in over a month. If anyone could get through to him, it would be Venetia Kane. The woman was not known for working miracles for nothing, after all.

*

"I don't think I've ever actually seen you here, professionally, have I?" Dr. Venetia Kane, a plump, rosy-cheeked elf with red and white striped spectacles said over a paper folder with Bernard's information.

"No, ma'am," Bernard replied, shifting in the red leather chair on the other side of her desk.

"And Santa himself referred you here, correct?"

Bernard winced. "Yes."

The redheaded elf peered over her spectacles at him. "Very well then," she said, putting the folder down. "What's on your mind, Bernard?"

Bernard was quiet. The last thing he wanted to do was waste more valuable time talking about his so-called problems to an elf that spent her time muddling in other peoples' business. He sighed. "We're on a schedule!" he howled finally, causing Dr. Kane to raise her eyebrows and tap her pen against her flushed cheek. "Everyone should know how much we have to accomplish in order to pull off Christmas, and all anyone is interested in is celebrating mundane things! Who gets married right before Christmas?!"

Dr. Kane smiled. "Why is this so surprising? The celebrating? Don't you think Christmas is worth a proper celebration?"

"Of course I think Christmas is worth celebration!" Bernard replied hotly. "I think as soon as everything is done and ready, that's cause for celebration!"

"And arranging for a wedding to happen on Christmas? Why doesn't that work?" Dr. Kane asked.

"It's not that it doesn't work… it's just… well, you're a woman, you know as well as I do that these things take time to plan. Time that we don't have when we're On. A. Schedule." Bernard was getting frustrated.

The woman nodded, and, after a pause, she leaned forward. "So it's not the fact that the two are not similar occasions has nothing to do with it?" Bernard gave her a look. "Okay, then. Describe the feelings you yourself have during Christmas."

"The feelings I have during Christmas?" Bernard repeated.

"The feelings you have during Christmas," Dr. Kane echoed. Her blue eyes twinkled, and she leaned back in her comfortable chair, propping her elbow on the edge of the cluttered desk.

Bernard quickly searched his mind for anything shrink-y that would come. Because, really, who else would ask? "Uh… well, there's excitement." He looked up to see Dr. Kane's eyes closed, her plump hand waving him on in encouragement. "Scared."

"Of?"

Silence.

"This is a safe environment, Bernard," Dr. Kane reminded him, not opening her eyes.

"Failing the children who believe in Santa," Bernard finally said. "I mean, what if something happens between now and liftoff? What if Santa experiences sleigh difficulty in-flight? What if he gets shot down?" He shifted. "And because of that, the kids who still believe don't get Christmas?"

"I see. Any other emotions?"

"Pride." Bernard couldn't help himself smiling at that one. Quickly, memories of Christmases past came flooding into his head; there was Scott during his first Santa liftoff, Charlie as a kid directing a set of dining room chairs to fly, Judy and Andrew's faces when the North Pole glittered (signifying the last present delivered) after a sleigh malfunction, Judy and Andrew's wedding, Belle commanding a post of E.L.F. operatives when Scott was jailed, despite the fact that she hadn't even been trained for emergency leadership yet, Chet the reindeer and his mishaps.

"Pride in a job well done?" Dr. Kane clarified. She hadn't missed that twinkle in Bernard's eyes. When he nodded, she continued, "Well, unless those are the only-"

"Magic." Bernard interrupted her.

Again, her eyebrows shot up. "Magic?"

"There's just this overwhelming, I don't know… it's like an infection. It usually starts with the younger elves in Toys and Marketing, and then… feeds upward until everyone's as crazed as they are." He paused, realizing that he had been waving his hands around like a lunatic. "That's usually when we get our best work," he admitted, letting his hands drop to his lap.

"Interesting," Dr. Kane said. Adjusting her glasses, she studied him. He seemed more at ease now, but still uneasy that he was missing crucial production time with the elves. She pursed her lips. "What about the feelings you associate with weddings?"

Bernard blinked. "Happy, I guess," he said. He yanked his beret off his head and twirled it absentmindedly on a finger. "I mean, it's supposed to be the happiest moment of your life, right?"

"Some would argue," Dr. Kane agreed.

"And, well, I mean, you dream about your wedding day off and on throughout your entire life, so it's pretty magical in its own right," he continued, focused on watching the dark cloth go round and round. "It's not something you can really describe without having experienced it, I guess."

Dr. Kane sat upright. "Bernard," she began, straightening her glasses, "Can you tell me the similarities between the two holidays? The similarities that you've just described to me?"

"What?" Bernard was confused. "About the magic?"

The doctor nodded, a huge smile on her face. "It's all about the MAGIC!" she said. "Without magic, life's adventures wouldn't be worth two gingerbread cookies!" She snapped her fingers, and Bernard's folder vanished. "When you realize what real magic is like, you'll know."

She dismissed Bernard with a knowing smile and a wave, sending him along with a quick note to Santa stating that he was cleared to return to his duties. She sat down at her desk and sighed, removing her glasses and twirling them between her stubby fingers. The faster Bernard recognised that the spirit of Christmas was in the magic, the faster he would be truly happy.

*

A/N: Hey guys! I know, I'm probably the worst person ever, but here's the (kind of short) update. I still really enjoy suggestions, criticisms (preferably the constructive kind, but if ever you need to take your unchanneled anger out on a poor, unsuspecting chick (right word?) like me, don't), and overall reviews!! Happy Easter, and I promise promise promise that there will be another update by the end of May! Over and out! ~Flyinghawk


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